Taijutsu Two Step
by Green Pirate
Summary: NarutoCowboy Bebop crossover. Don't knock it before you try it. When a fangirl's daydreams start to come true, bad things start to happen. Itachi is determined to save Sasuke from the dark side.


Taijutsu Two Step

NarutoCowboy Bebop crossover. Don't knock it before you try it. When a fangirl's daydreams start to come true, bad things start to happen. Itachi is determined to save Sasuke from the dark side.

Fucking insane crack, this is. So review and tell me what you think. I'm not going to hold this fic hostage in exchange for reviews, but if you are interested, I warn you in all seriousness that I only update when I feel like it. I'm really lazy, plus I've got two jobs and full time grad school to look after. Plus I've got the attention span of a chipmunk. So it might be a looooooong time. I'm sharing it with you for the lulz.

Actually, eventually, within the narrative context and the scope of the issues, it's implied to be a bigger crossover than just Naruto/Cowboy Bebop (which actually serves to facilitate the contextual _how_ in the first place, we'll get to that eventually), however, massive crossovers tend to be unwieldy and so the variety of characters and series are limited. Hope you don't mind. Ahahahaha.

Flames will be used to warm my freezing little toes. Criticism designed to help me will be taken seriously.

I don't own Cowboy Bebop or Naruto.

**

The classic alternate universe was the one where Hitler won the war. Quantum theory allowed for any number of universes to exist; some quantum phenomena didn't even make sense without the existence of other universes, so I suppose in some other universe, Hitler did win the war.

My probably faulty understanding of what quantum theory meant by other universes was the very reason I wasn't nearly as stunned as some people might have been to be in this position, and besides that I was _very _glad I wasn't dealing with an entrenched Thousand Year Reich. Or Nazis, at all. Eek.

The only real issue for me was the bizarre situation I was faced with; Uchiha Itachi had faced off against Vicious and emerged the quick victor with an expeditious use of Tsukuyomi, and now we were driving cross-country in my dad's Durango, with Itachi in the passenger seat and Vicious, still under the jutsu, tied up in the back.

This sort of thing just did not happen, outside of badfic. First, those two series just didn't _match_, second, that just didn't seem to make any sense. Why? How? Too many questions at once.

At least Vicious wasn't acting like he was being tormented. This was already stressful enough without that.

Itachi had said nothing since we got gas in Nacogdoches, and that was two hours ago. East Texas was woody and wet, very unlike the desertous West Texas, or even the grassy plains in North Central Texas that I was from, and it was cold this January morning. Most of the other cars on the highway had smoke coming out their tailpipe, the steam that comes out when the car hasn't quite warmed up yet.

We would have taken a plane to New Orleans, but Itachi had no ID, and Vicious was conked out—_and _had no ID. We would never have got past airport security.

Solution? Get the truck and drive there.

I was just praying we got this all straightened out before my parents came home and realized I'd gone off cross-country without telling them. To say my ass would get kicked would be like saying the Germans tiptoed into France in 1939. I had five days before they got home from one of their Key West adventures.

"How much longer?" I asked suddenly, indicating with a jerk of my head the white-haired man laying inert on top of a couple of quilts in the back.

Itachi only spoke Japanese. I'd come to find out that the anime characters whose worlds melted into ours maintained whatever language made the most sense for them to speak, and Itachi's language was Japanese, while Vicious and the rest of the people from that world spoke English...or, I supposed, whatever language they spoke, because more than just English existed in his universe. It got kind of confusing when that happened. Anyway he spoke English.

My own Japanese language skills were relatively poor. I'd taken the language for three years, but that was three years ago now and it was difficult to recall.

Itachi looked over at me, his Sharingan eyes gleaming weirdly in the half-light. He did not smile; I had never seen him smile except at Sasuke in the show.

We seemed to have an understanding; or at least, he knew through the Naruto manga (hadn't _that_ been a fun, weird, hopefully forgettable day) what his future had held, and he knew I knew what it had been and what his past was. So, while he didn't bother behaving like the scary-as-shit S-class criminal that he could be, we weren't friends, either.

"Two hours," he said.

"Christ, he's been out for five already," I muttered in English. "He's gonna be _pissed_ when he wakes up."

And if he ever gets out of those ropes, I'm dead, I thought. A shudder slithered up my spine.

*

We had to get gas in some nameless small town on Highway 49, and at that time Itachi got out of the car and informed me that we would meet in New Orleans.

Obviously, I argued, but he wouldn't even tell me why he was going, let alone where he was going or what he was going to do.

Because he sure didn't know this world's geography, I gave him the TomTom and its charger, and set it to speak Japanese. Plus, I wrote out New Orleans and Louisiana in katakana, my cell phone number, and gave him twenty dollars and the road map of the USA my dad kept in the door.

Then he was gone, and I continued, feeling twice as nervous as before. With Itachi there I didn't have to worry quite so much about Vicious.

When I saw lights flashing in my rear view mirror, I cursed, and pulled over.

The man came up, and I rolled down the window.

He peered into the car, and I froze, screwing a nervous smile onto my features.

"Good morning, sir," I said rather weakly.

"Mornin'," he said, and leaned inside a bit, staring into the back of the Durango with a vaguely shocked expression. He turned to me for an answer.

"I...um," I said, my eyes getting huge.

The State Trooper peered at me accusingly.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to have you step out of the car," he said. "And I'll need to see your license and registration."

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit!_

"That's not necessary," Vicious said, his voice ringing out coldly.

"What?" the man said, looking at the man more closely now.

Vicious let the silence stretch out for a moment, and I finally found my voice. Holy fucking shit, he's _awake?_ When did that happen!

"What, don't you have any kinks?" I said, sounding offended. "Or have you never heard of bondage sex in a car?"

I could feel Vicious' eyes staring into the back of my head. Oh, I was _so _dead. If I didn't die of a heart attack and humiliation first. Bondage sex in a car. Really, self?

And why aren't you letting the nice policeman take you away from the scary man who probably wants to kill you, I wondered then. But I'd already opened my big, fat mouth.

The trooper looked stunned.

Oh wait. There's such a thing as indecent exposure, you know.

"Look, we're on our way to it, this is just...um, to set the mood. We're not going to do it on the side of the highway. We're just...um, we're supposed to meet them in New Orleans."

"You have sex with more than one..."

"Hey, you asked," I said defensively, feeling more embarrassed than I ever had before. "Why did you pull me over, officer?"

"You were speeding," he said sharply, shifting into authoritative mode like it were a reassuring shell.

Fuuuuuuuck. I hadn't seen any sign taking the speed limit down and I'd been sticking to it like glue out of paranoia.

I felt dread welling up in me; no doubt my parents would find out about this little trip now, and since this was a crappy small town speed trap in Louisiana, speeding tickets were probably their only income. Arguing would only get me fined more, and maybe into a lot more dire trouble. I mean, after all, even though Vicious seemed to not have an interest in getting me arrested for kidnapping (bad sign bad sign bad sign), the trooper himself certainly could press the issue.

"Oh," I said faintly. "Well, what's the damage, then?"

He blinked at me once.

"How about you just drive slower from now on, yeah?" he said, smiling shakily.

I stared.

"S'cuse me, sir?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

He popped the door frame lightly and stepped back from the Durango,

"You have a nice day, ma'am, sir," he said, and almost ran back to his car. As I watched in stunned silence, he took off on the highway, a little too fast for the exit to be called cool.

What the hell just happened, I wondered, staring slack-jawed at the disappearing back lights.

Almost too late, I realized that Vicious was both up and moving. Shit, I _knew _I should have tied his wrists and ankles together.

I jerked forward, barely avoiding the not-quite-awkward grab for my hair. I whirled around in the seat, this was my dad's car and so much bigger than my own that I had no problem wiggling around with surprising speed, and crammed myself into the awkward space between the door and the steering wheel, my legs coming up to kick at him and defend myself.

"It wasn't my idea!" I cried. Where the hell was Itachi when I needed hi—oh fuck the sword and knives. He left them!

At the same time, Vicious realized exactly where his weapons were, and went for them. I tried to get up, but he had the advantage, and grasped the sword's handle as soon as I had wiggled upright enough to reach for it.

Changing plans, I reached over to the door and opened it, sending me tumbling down onto the highway shoulder, where I landed with an _ow!_

I rolled onto my feet and bolted.

"_Uchiha-sama-a-a!_" I wailed, as pathetic as that was, as I reached the edge of the forest.

Right, he's not even here, you dumbshit, I thought. You're an idiot.

Fuck my life, seriously. How did it even _get _to this point. This was the worst winter vacation in the history of winter vacations; why didn't I go to Miami, with my friends.


End file.
